


That One with the Football Player and the Cheerleader

by AmyViolet



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal Sex, Blam Week 2016, Crossdressing, M/M, Oral Sex, Roleplay, jock/cheerleader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8374489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyViolet/pseuds/AmyViolet
Summary: Blaine and Sam have the house to themselves for an entire night.





	

Blaine's mother shuffles into the kitchen and goes straight for the coffee machine. "Good morning, Mrs. Anderson," Sam says around a mouthful of yogurt.

"I keep telling you to call me Pam, honey." It's true, she does. Sam's not sure why he doesn't feel comfortable with it. He has been living with the Andersons for most of senior year, after all. Maybe it's because _Mr._ Anderson has never asked Sam to call him by his first name...though of course he isn't around as much. Anyway, 'Pam' just never seems to come out of his mouth. 

Blaine shoves an overflowing spoonful of cereal in his mouth, letting milk dribble down his chin. He's not nearly as dapper in the privacy of his own home as he is in public, Sam has discovered. "You going for a run?" he asks Sam.

"Yeah, you wanna join me?"

Blaine rolls his eyes. Sam knows perfectly well that there's not enough time for him to go for a run _and_ tame his hair before school.

"Is today Friday?" Mrs. Anderson asks.

Sam, unsure of the answer, looks to Blaine, who answers, "Yep. All day."

"Shit," Mrs. Anderson says. "Then your father's thing is tonight."

"What thing?"

"You know, that thing I told you about? The fundraiser for the governor? I still have to figure out something to wear and pack an overnight bag and get my hair done..."

Blaine's ears perk up. "Overnight bag?"

"It's at the Columbus Hilton, so we're just going to stay over."

Sam and Blaine don't dare look at each other. Blaine tops off the cereal in his bowl, while Sam leans forward in his chair to do some hamstring stretches. They're both fighting back ginormous grins.

When they're alone together, in the car on the way to school, they can finally stop fighting them back. "I can't believe it!" Blaine says, drumming a happy beat on the steering wheel. "We're finally going to have the house to ourselves!" Technically it won't be the first time they're alone in the house together, of course. But it will be the first time since they've started having sex that they'll be alone for a long stretch of time without having to worry about being interrupted.

"We can do all the stuff we've talked about!" Sam says gleefully.

"Well...not _all_ of it," Blaine corrects him with a smirk. They haven't been able to get too wild with actual sex yet, but they have talked about a lot of stuff. There are these sites online that aren't exactly porn because they don't have any images (they're very careful about images when anyone else is in the house, just in case of barge-ins) but they do have, like, pretty explicit stories. A lot of them are fanfiction, but some are just fiction-fiction, or even purportedly nonfiction, though that's questionable. Anyway Blaine reads them to Sam sometimes, and even if he doesn't specifically replace the characters' names with his and Sam's, it's what they're both imagining. They've often talked about how it would be hot to act out some of them. "But we could do one."

"Yeah! And we'll _really_ do it, like with costumes and props and the whole bit!"

Blaine bites his lip and nods. "Yes! One of the Cyclops/Wolverine fanfics! Which one though? I've got like three favorites that are hard to choose between."

"Mmm...I mean, Cyclops and Wolverine are my faves too, but we don't really have costumes for them."

"But we do have superhero costumes."

"Yeah, but we don't have a sex story for Nightbird and Blond Chameleon."

Blaine is appalled to realize Sam is right. "Why _don't_ we have a sex story for Nightbird and Blond Chameleon?" 

"We should totally write one. Or you could. I have to actually pay attention in class, but you could come up with something, I bet."

It's tempting, but Blaine imagines what would happen if a teacher not only caught him but made him read, out loud to the class, what he was working on instead of classwork. "I should probably pay attention in class too," he says reluctantly. "But couldn't we just ad lib?"

"Yeah, I mean, we could..."

"But you had a different one in mind?"

"Well, there is this one that sort of popped in my head right away..." Sam's not sure why he feels sort of shy about it now. It's not like Blaine is going to think he's super weird because of the story he was really, really into. It's just...what if Blaine thinks he's super weird because of the story he was really, really into? "But, I mean, ad libbing is good."

Blaine checks the rear view mirror and steals a glance at Sam at the same time. He's blushing! Now Blaine has to know. "Which one?"

"Well, like, remember that one with the football player and the cheerleader? "

It actually takes Blaine a minute to think of the one Sam means, and when he does he's more than a little surprised. It's hot enough, he guesses, but it's totally clichéd and doesn't have any real plot or especially interesting characters, and it isn't even a fanfic so it doesn't build on characters they already know and care about. So he doesn't quite get why Sam wants to do _that one_ , and he's even more confused about why it's making Sam blush—there aren't any weird kinks in it or anything. Oh, but maybe Sam is embarrassed because he thinks it's too sentimental, too sappy or whatever. It's basically a story about _them_ , after all, a jock and a cheerleader. "Aw, Sammy. I'd love to do that one."

After school Blaine meets Sam at his locker. "I really kind of want to just skip glee and go straight home," he says.

"Yeah, this day has dragged on forever. But your mom will still be home now, won't she?"

"Probably," Blaine admits. 

"Anyway, we have to go to the locker room before we go home."

"Why?"

"What do you mean _why_? So we can..." But Artie and Kitty are approaching, so he doesn't go on.

After practice, Tina asks if they want to go to the Lima Bean with her. "Can't," Sam says. "Me and Blaine are going to go lift some weights."

Jake and Ryder overhear and decide they feel like lifting too, and it's not like Blaine or Sam can tell them no. Blaine still doesn't know why they have to go to the locker room, and he can't ask with the other guys and Coach Beiste around. Getting sweaty maybe? Blaine doesn't remember sweatiness being a prominent factor in the jock-cheerleader story, but maybe it's a thing Sam likes and hasn't really mentioned before. It would definitely fit with their scenario anyway.

Sam keeps an eye on Coach Beiste, waiting for her to leave for a minute. When she settles into her office and puts her feet up on the desk, he realizes she's probably not going to any time soon. Sam frowns. He doesn't want to be here all freaking night, especially since Blaine's parents are probably going to actually be leaving pretty soon. He tells the guys he'll be right back and goes out into the hall to make a phone call. He's not even back in the locker room before he hears Principal Figgins over the loud speaker: "Shannon Beiste, report to the principal's office immediately to have your ass handed to you."

As soon as the coach is gone, Sam starts loading up a duffel bag. "Sam, what are you—"

"Go get the car, Blaine! Ryder, guard the door and shout if you see her coming back! Jake, uh...you don't have to do anything, just...You didn't see nothin'!"

"Way ahead of you, dude," Jake says, setting his dumbbell down and heading for the shower.

Blaine really has no idea what Sam is up to now, but he runs to the parking lot without changing out of his gym clothes, only stopping at his locker to grab his bag, which has his car keys. He parked in the south lot this morning, so by the time he's made it to his car and driven it around to the north lot, where the exit from the gym is, Sam is waiting for him with a huge, full duffel. Sam jams the bag into the back seat, gets in next to Blaine, and shouts, "Go, go!" Blaine peels out, actually squealing his tires.

By the time he pulls out of the parking lot he's calmed down enough to drive not like a maniac. "What's in the bag?" he asks Sam, who's looking over his shoulder as if Coach Beiste or someone might be after them.

"Our costumes, of course!" Sam's still looking out the back window.

Blaine is impressed. He had assumed that Sam would just wear his letterman jacket as his "costume." But then Josh, the jock in the story, did have the full football uniform on (at the beginning anyway!), and Sam apparently wants to go all out. Of course, the story actually takes place in a locker room, so... "Maybe we should have just stayed and done everything in the locker room. You know, to be authentic."

Sam looks at him finally, and Blaine sees his cheeks flush. "Yeah, but...like, what if someone caught us?"

"Oh, I'm just kidding, babe. I know." No one knows about them. Blaine's dad would absolutely not be okay with Sam continuing to live with them if he did—and there's about a fifty-fifty chance that one or both of Sam's parents would feel the same way. And even if their friends wouldn't care, they can't all be trusted to keep their mouths shut.

Blaine's parents' cars are both in the garage when they get home, so they leave the duffel bag in the car and go inside and try to act like nothing is up. Blaine's father, who's sitting in the kitchen waiting for his wife to finish getting ready, asks why they're wearing their gym clothes, and Blaine tells him they were lifting weights in the locker room when Coach Sylvester burst in and kicked them because she needed the locker room for a meeting of the Greater Midwestern Anti-Arts Council. Mr. Anderson shakes his head and asks, "How has that woman not been fired yet?"

The question reminds Blaine of something, and when they get upstairs, before Blaine goes to shower in his bathroom and Sam in his, Blaine asks him, "Did your phone call have something to do with Coach Beiste leaving us alone?"

Sam smiles and says, "I called Principal Figgins's office and told him I found a donkey wandering around with a tag that said, 'If found, return to Shannon Beiste, McKinley High School' and I was on my way over with it."

"Oh my god, that's awesome!" Blaine hugs Sam and kisses him on the cheek, quickly, because it's not safe to do any more than that just standing in the hall like they are.

Sam finishes his shower before Blaine does—as always—and when he goes downstairs in clean sweats the Andersons are on their way out the door. He tells them to have fun and tries not to look too eager for them to leave. When their car is out of view—he totally watches from the little window in the front door, but he's pretty sure they don't see him—he goes to Blaine's car for the duffel bag and carries it upstairs.

Blaine comes out of the bathroom in just his towel, and holy shit, the way the towel hugs his ass. It's not a very big towel, and when Blaine walks Sam can _almost_ see what's underneath. He really, really wants to see what's underneath. Like, he knows, he's seen it a bunch of times already, enough that he's long since lost any sense of it being weird that the equipment is basically the same as his own, but not nearly enough that he's tired of it. He doesn't think that will ever happen.

"They're gone?" Blaine asks, though it's not necessary. Sam wouldn't be in here if they weren't. Sam nods, and Blaine uses the app on his phone to arm the house's security system, just so if his parents come back early the alarm will go off when they open the door.

Sam is still staring at him. Finally he says, "I kinda just wanna rip the towel off you and jump you and never mind about everything else."

It's not a bad suggestion, Blaine thinks. And it's not like they can't do the whole story thing after. "Well..."

"But that's what we always do," Sam says. "Not that I'm complaining, it's awesome! But we're always so rushed because your parents are never gone that long, or at least we're never sure they will be. So now we should, like...take our time."

Blaine kisses him, soft and slow and not _too_ deep. He doesn't press their bodies together or anything—he's not trying to heat things up to where Sam changes his mind again and just jumps him. "We should probably change separately then," he says when the kiss ends.

Sam opens the bag and pulls out all the components of a football uniform, including basically everything except the helmet—even a jockstrap! It's a little weird, Blaine thinks, that Sam is apparently planning on changing here instead of in his own room, but okay. "Let me just get my spare Cheerios uniform and then I'll—"

"No, dude, I got a cheerleader uniform!" Sam says, and he pulls a _skirt_ out of the now mostly empty duffel bag.

"Uh..." Blaine is speechless. Sam wants to dress him up like a _girl_ cheerleader? Sam is bi and Blaine is aware that he still likes girls, but he really wasn't expecting this. Finally he manages, "But I thought you liked me in my _male_ Cheerios uniform."

"Obviously! You're so fucking hot in that uniform, Blaine. It's, like, so unfair that I have to see you wear that thing around school every day and I'm not even allowed to react."

"So then...why aren't we using that uniform?"

"I'm pretty sure it wouldn't fit me. We're not really the same size."

It takes Blaine several seconds of staring at Sam's patiently-explaining face to realize what he's suggesting. "So _you_ wanna be the cheerleader?"

"Oh, shit. Did you want to? I guess we should have talked about who would be which."

"Well, I mean, I just assumed...I mean, since I _am_ a cheerleader..."

"No, you're not."

"Uh, what do you mean? You just admitted that you've noticed I wear the uniform every day."

"Yeah, because you're the Cheerios co-captain. But when have you ever led an actual cheer?"

Blaine hesitates. "Okay, you've got me there."

Sam nods. "Actual cheerleaders wear skirts."

"What? No! Kurt was a Cheerio and did some actual cheerleading stuff, and he wore the boys' uniform! And...and even in the story we read, the cheerleader is a guy, and it doesn't say he's wearing a skirt!"

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure he is."

Blaine is almost positive he would remember if that were the case. But now he's wondering, so he goes to the computer, finds the story, and skims through it quickly. "Here," he says when he finds the passage. "All it says about his clothes is: 'Josh ripped off Shawn's cheerleading uniform and dropped it on the dirty locker room floor.'"

"Oh. I was definitely picturing it as a skirt. I mean...it doesn't say it _isn't_ a skirt."

Blaine studies the Cheerios skirt. "Would you like me more in this than in my actual uniform?"

"I don't think it's possible for me to like you more than I already do!"

Blaine smiles. Sam's answer sounds so sincere, not at all like he just thought it was the kind of thing he _should_ say. Still, he wonders... "I mean, do you think I'd look hotter in it?"

Sam steps closer and wraps his arms around Blaine. "I do think you'd look hot in it. Have you seen how the girl cheerleaders' asses look in these things? I mean, I know you don't care, but you can _see_ , right? How the little skirt just barely covers it, and every once in a while you get a glimpse of the red, like, briefs underneath?"

"Spanks," Blaine says. He knows from the girls on the team that they're called _spanks_. Some of the girls call them _spankies_ , but Blaine can't bring himself to say that word with a straight face.

"Spanks," Sam repeats. He sort of groans it. He lowers his hands so they rest on Blaine's butt. "Oh my god. And _your_ ass is just so round and tight and perfect that _of course_ it would look amazing in a tiny little skirt and clingy, red _spanks_."

The way Sam keeps saying that makes Blaine wonder if spanking is something he's into. He almost asks, but he doesn't want to get off the topic of the skirt. Later, he tells himself—he'll ask Sam about spanking later. Right now he's trying to figure out what to do about Sam's apparent crossdressing kink. Because the thing is, Blaine really isn't into the idea of wearing a skirt. But...he's not _necessarily_ opposed to it either, and it seems like Sam would really like it. "So..." he starts, but he doesn't know where to go from there.

"But I was thinking I'd wear the skirt tonight. You know, if it's okay with you." Sam realizes they probably should have talked through the details ahead of time. 

"Oh. Right." Sam did mention that. Blaine had completely forgotten.

"I just, I've pictured myself as Shawn and you as Josh ever since we read that one."

"Really?" Blaine asks. "Because he's blond?"

Sam has to think about it, because he's never really wondered why before. It never occurred to him before that Blaine pictured the roles the other way. He doesn't think it's because of Shawn's hair color though, which he didn't even remember. "I think it's more...like, Josh is so much more experienced. Like you are. I mean, you're helping me get caught up, obviously, but before... And, like, you know how Josh is the one who's basically in control during the whole thing?"

"Yeah?"

Sam pulls Blaine closer and sort of talks into his hair. "I like it when you're like that."

"Really?" Blaine actually did not know that before. He kind of took on that role early on just because Sam had no idea what to do with another guy—and he was pretty inexperienced with girls, even, beyond making out—but he's actually been trying to cut it out now that it's not necessary anymore. "What about the skirt?"

Sam shrugs as if it weren't a big deal for him. "I don't have to wear it if you think it would be weird. It's not like I want you to pretend I'm a girl, obviously, and it's not like I want to pretend I am. It's just..." It's _not_ that he wants to pretend to be a girl. There's a part of it that's maybe sort of uncomfortably close to that, but...well, there are other parts too. Parts that won't freak Blaine out, hopefully, and that he can maybe actually put into words. "Like, when I said you'd look hot in a skirt, I don't think that because it would make you look like a girl. I think that because of how it would show off your ass and your legs. Guys' clothes don't really do that. I mean, _your_ ass looks amazing in anything, but... Anyway, _my_ ass is nothing special, but maybe in a little skirt you would think it looks good?"

"Sammy! You know I love every part of you! I mean, I _hope_ you know that..."

"No, I know. I wasn't trying to say that, like, I think you _hate_ my ass normally. I just...I don't know how to explain it."

But Blaine thinks maybe he understands. Sam said it wasn't about looking like a girl, it was about what the little cheerleader skirt shows off. Thinking of it strictly like that—like imagining they lived in a culture where skirts were normal on men—then, yeah, Sam would look pretty amazing in a tiny miniskirt with form-fitting red spanks underneath. Plus, Blaine would have much easier access for... "So you wanna bottom?" 

"I know we do it the other way more often, and I do love everything about your ass, but...I also really love it when you're inside of mine."

"Yeah?" Now Blaine lets his hands slide down onto Sam's butt. And then, after a second, he lets them slide under the waistband of Sam's sweat pants. "So then maybe you should go get into costume, 'Shawn'."

Sam goes into his room to change. The skirt has its zipper in the _back_ , which is a little weird (he knows it's the back because that's where the tag is), but otherwise it's a pretty easy outfit to get into. He doesn't let himself look in the mirror until he's got everything on, including the white ankle socks and white tennis shoes. When he does finally look, the sight kind of knocks the breath out of him. He doesn't know why, exactly, but the image of himself in a skirt gives him such a weird thrill. (Also, boner. He's got a pretty intense boner now, which could maybe also be called weird.) It feels...wrong, almost. Not that he objectively thinks it's wrong or anything—he knows it's just clothes, and even if it were more, if he were like Unique, for example, it wouldn't be a question of right and wrong—but there's some part of him that would be, yeah, pretty fucking embarrassed if anyone other than Blaine saw him like this.

He can't _wait_ for Blaine to see him like this.

Blaine takes a lot longer getting ready. Sam realizes he should have helped him before changing into his own costume—Blaine's not used to all the pads and stuff—but now that Sam's already in his Cheerios uniform he doesn't want Blaine to see him until they're both ready. He's debating changing back into his sweats to give Blaine a hand when Blaine calls out that he's ready.

Sam rushes out into the hall to see Blaine already standing there, looking so...so fucking _butch_. Sam actually gulps at the sight. It's not like he's ever thought of Blaine as girly or anything, but with the shoulder pads and everything, just...wow.

"Sam...wow," Blaine says, mouth gaping a bit. Sam was right: the little skirts and the spanks do show off the wearer's legs and ass _amazingly_. Sam looks good in anything, of course, but it doesn't hurt a bit to have an outfit that draws attention to just below the belt. (Not that there's a belt.) "Can you, like, turn around?" Sam twirls, and the skirt flies up. Blaine can totally see the outline of his bulge under the spanks. "Oh my god," he says.

"Oh, this old thing?" Sam asks, twirling again.

"So, uh, my room, or...? Though we'd actually have more room downstairs, and we _could_ do stuff downstairs, for once!" They'll have to run like hell if Blaine's parents do come back early for some reason, but at least the alarm will give them some warning. And the idea of fucking in one of the common areas of the house instead of one of their bedrooms or showers is pretty exciting.

"Yeah, but it's still not very locker-room-like. Oh, I know! How about the garage!"

"What!?"

"Yeah! There's a bench out there—I know it's a tool bench and not a bench bench and it's not the right height or anything, but still—and that tool cabinet looks kinda like a locker."

"But..."

"Come on! The tool bench _is_ the right height for you to push me down and fuck me over."

"Oh Jesus." Blaine swallows hard. "But...what if my parents came home? The very first place they'll go is the garage. And there's no alarm out there."

"I guess, but...how likely is it that they're gonna come home early? And wouldn't we hear the car?"

"Maybe..."

Blaine obviously still isn't comfortable with the idea, and Sam can't totally blame him. It _would_ be really, really bad for them to get caught. But he has an idea! "I'll unplug the garage door opener. Then your dad would have to get out of the car and he'd start swearing and banging on the garage door and stuff, and we'd have plenty of warning."

"Oh my god. You know my father _so well_."

"I mean...I'm not trying to be disrespectful or anything."

Blaine giggles. "No, you're totally right." He giggles again. "Holy crap, we're actually going to do this in the _garage_!"

"Locker room," Sam corrects him. "Don't forget the lube."

Blaine keeps giggling off and on as they head into the garage and as Sam finds the plug to the garage door opener and pulls it out. Blaine stops giggling when Sam walks over to him, hands clasped behind his back, looking at the floor like he's suddenly shy, and says, "That was an amazing pass, Josh."

Quickly getting into character, Blaine responds, "Thanks, Shawn. Hey, why are you still here? Everyone else has gone home already. Did you stick around just to compliment my throwing arm?" Blaine can't remember what excuse the story had for _Josh_ being in the locker room after everyone else has left, but it doesn't really matter.

"Yeah, I mean...you won the game. You're like a hero."

"That's true," Blaine says with a self-deprecating laugh. He's not sure Josh was supposed to be self-deprecating in the story, but this line would be pretty douchey if he weren't. "All the guys want to be me, all the girls want to get fucked by me."

"Not just the girls," Sam mutters.

"Is that so?" Blaine asks.

At this point in the story Josh checks out Shawn's ass and remembers how good it looked while Shawn was cheering during the game. Blaine wonders if maybe Sam was right all along, if maybe Shawn was supposed to be wearing a skirt. Probably not—it would be a pretty big detail to leave out—but the thing is, Sam's ass does look amazing in the Cheerios skirt, all round and firm and tantalizingly _almost_ exposed. And his legs, of course, are completely exposed, so much bare skin over his lean, powerful muscles.

And it's not just Sam's skin that's exposed. _Sam_ is exposed like this. Blaine can sort of look at the outfit strictly visually, but there's no denying that Sam has dressed like a girl for him. Not jokingly, but sexually. Blaine really doesn't understand at what level Sam is into that (and there'll be plenty of time to talk about it later, if Sam wants to), but he has a sudden realization that it must be pretty vulnerable-feeling for him, that he must trust Blaine a lot to do this with him.

Blaine steps closer and slowly traces a finger up Sam's bare arm. He then strokes down Sam's back, over the Cheerios top, and pauses at the waistband of the skirt. "Are there any _particular_ guys you know of who want to get fucked by me?"

Sam probably doesn't manage to actually blush, but he does somehow manage to give the impression of blushing. "There's only one reason I joined the cheerleading team, Josh. It was so I could watch you play." Sam manages to say the line so convincingly that Blaine feels like it's a real confession.

Despite suddenly feeling like this Josh guy isn't nearly good enough for someone as sweet as Shawn, Blaine says his line. "You like to watch me and think about my dick inside your ass?"

There! Sam is _actually_ blushing now! Blaine's kind of in awe. Sam blushes for real and says, "It's like all I think about."

"Maybe I was thinking something similar watching you, cheering and jumping and...would you do a cheer just for me? Right here in the locker room?" This part isn't in the story. Blaine hopes Sam won't mind that he's going off-script.

Sam is surprised by the request, but not _that_ surprised. Mostly he's just happy that Blaine apparently does want to watch him jump around in the cheerleading uniform. That's really all he can do—he doesn't know any actual cheer routines or anything—but he jumps enthusiastically, spinning and kicking and yelling "Go Titans!" and "Go Josh!" from time to time. 

Blaine gets it, finally, the allure of cheerleaders. It's not just the way the little skirt keeps flying up and showing off Sam's junk. Okay, a lot of it is that. Sam's hardness is totally obvious under the spanks, and how is Blaine supposed to not react to that? But it's more than that too. Sam is looking all unbelievably hot while actually cheering _for Blaine_. Well, Shawn is cheering for Josh, but whatever. 

Sam's cheering slowly gives way to dancing. Sam's dancing inevitably leads to body rolls, and Sam's body rolls—when he's with Blaine—inevitably lead to grinding. He's grinding so close now, not quite touching but close enough for Blaine to feel his body heat, feel his breath even. Blaine puts his hands on Sam's hips and grinds along with him. He inches his hands back onto Sam's ass and pulls him closer, so they're now grinding directly against each other, albeit somewhat awkwardly thanks to Blaine's bulky football gear. Sam brings his mouth close to Blaine's ear and asks: "Give me a D?" It's not a line from the story.

"Yeah?" Blaine asks. He slides his fingers inside the spanks and squeezes Sam's cheeks. "Where do you want the D?"

"Where your hands are. Well, except...inside."

Blaine lets his fingers creep farther up, until the pad of his index finger is resting just outside Sam's hole. "Inside...here?" he asking, pressing but not quite breaching. 

Sam gasps. "Yeah. Please, Blaine. I mean...Josh."

"Can we forget this Josh and Shawn stuff?" Blaine asks. He really just wants to fuck _Sam_ now.

Sam nods. "Fuck me, Blaine."

"Help me out of these pads and stuff?"

"Yeah, sure, just let me get one last look at you in them." Sam steps back and just looks him up and down. "I totally would have tried to talk you into going out for football in the fall if I'd had any idea how hot you would look in the uniform."

"Really?" Blaine asks. He's obviously not unaware of how good certain guys can look in football uniforms, but he didn't think he was the type the uniform would work on.

"Totally. I wish I could take a picture." He can't, though: they have to be really careful about what kinds of pictures they take of each other. Blaine's father can almost certainly see anything on Blaine's phone, and Sam's not totally sure even his is safe.

Blaine turns around slowly so Sam can get a last look from all angles, and then he pulls off the jersey. Sam helps him out of the shoulder pads, nipping at his bare chest when it's revealed. It kind of weirded him out to feel chest hair the first time he reached under Blaine's shirt during a make-out session, but now he really likes that Blaine doesn't wax like he does. He kisses his way down Blaine's chest and stomach, all the way down to the waistband of the football pants, and then he kneels in front of him to help get him out of the bottom half of the uniform. Blaine leans back and rests his hands on the tool bench.

Sam runs his hands up and down the smooth, stretchy material, particularly the part that's covering Blaine's ass. He mouths at Blaine's junk right through the fabric, until Blaine opens the pants and pushes them down to just above his knees. Sam tosses the thigh pads to the side but doesn't bother with the knees pads yet. He resumes what he was doing before, only this time through the jockstrap (he intentionally gave Blaine a jockstrap but no cup), soaking the thin cotton with his spit as Blaine's cock strains against the pouch. Sam gropes Blaine's ass, feeling if not seeing how exposed it is.

Blaine groans. He gently pushes Sam's head away—not far! just enough to give himself room to push the jockstrap down!—and then pulls it back and holds it in place. "Suck me, Sammy."

Sam sucks him. He's vaguely aware of the cold, hard cement against his knees; he's acutely aware of how much he loves the taste and the feel of Blaine's warm, meaty dick in his mouth, all wet now with his spit, getting harder and harder by the second. Blaine's groaning louder now, and he's moving his hips, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into Sam's mouth, and Sam wonders if Blaine is going to come like this. As much as Sam wants to get fucked, he wouldn't mind if Blaine came in his mouth instead. Or...well, if he came in his mouth _first_. 

"Fuck, Sammy, you'd better stop," Blaine tells him, shortly before stopping won't be an option. He helps Sam stand and, feeling slightly dazed, pulls him close for a kiss. "We're done following the script, right? I don't have to take the uniform off you before I fuck you?"

Sam smiles at him, a grin that's almost a smirk. "You think I look sexy in a miniskirt!"

"I think you look sexy all the time."

"Including when I wear a miniskirt! I'm pretty sure this means you're not a hundred percent gay anymore."

"Nice try. I know you're hiding a huge cock under that miniskirt. I know because the skirt _can't_ hide it. Not just cause the skirt's so little, but because you're so hard underneath it. So hard thinking about how good my cock is gonna feel up inside your ass."

Sam flushes. "That's, uh...totally accurate, actually."

"Uh-huh." Blaine turns Sam toward the tool bench and pushes him down—not roughly, but not tentatively either—so his chest is resting on the surface and his ass is sticking out. The skimpy little skirt doesn't cover it all, and then Blaine flips it up onto Sam's back so it doesn't cover any of it. Red is a nice color on Sam's ass, and form-fitting Spandex is as nice a material to cover it as any, but Blaine doesn't want even that in his way anymore, and he pushes the spanks down to around Sam's knees. Blaine's dick jumps at the obscenity of the sight in front of him: somehow Sam's ass looks even more bare like this than if he had no clothes on at all.

He locates the lube where he set it down on the far corner of the tool bench and manages to reach it without moving more than a step or two away from his perfect spot behind Sam. He spends a long time fingering him, way longer than necessary to work him open, just because he can't get over how amazing Sam's ass looks like this. That and the fact that Sam's clearly enjoying it, gasping and moaning and moving his hips.

But eventually, of course, the need to have his dick and not just his fingers inside Sam overtakes him. He withdraws his fingers, eliciting a disappointed whine from Sam, and guides Sam into a more fuckable position, spanks off, legs spread wider. He enters Sam slowly, his dick sliding inside so smoothly, so effortlessly, that it feels just exactly right.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Sam says. Blaine's got one hand on his back holding him down, and his cock is steadily filling him. He thinks about how they'd look, if anyone happened to walk in and see Blaine fucking him in a skirt like this. A part of him thinks maybe he should find the idea humiliating, but he really doesn't. Or he sorta does, but he sorta likes the feeling. He's not sure. But he does almost wish that someone _could_ see them like this—like, not for real, but...

Blaine is really pounding him now. Sam has to grip the sides of the tool bench tight so his head doesn't slam against the wall. He's glad no one's home—he's glad there are no close neighbors—because he's unable to control the noises coming out of his throat, not quite screams but louder than grunts. Blaine's dick is hitting all the right spots so perfectly that it's almost too intensely good, he almost can't take it. And then he feels Blaine's hand wrap around his dick, and that finally _is_ too much, and he loses it, he loses all control. A massive orgasm washes through him and out of him and he cries out as he shoots off onto Blaine's hand and all over the garage floor.

Somehow Blaine keeps fucking Sam as he's coming and constricting around his cock; he keeps going until Sam is totally relaxed and bonelessly draped across the tool bench. Then he pulls out and comes partially on Sam's ass, partially on the skirt, blobs of thick, white come pooling on the shimmery red fabric before eventually soaking in. His knees are weak and he wants to sit—or better yet, lie down and cuddle—but they're in the garage and there really isn't that kind of furniture out here. He settles for slumping against Sam on the tool bench and nuzzling against his neck.

Sam nuzzles him back and kisses him lazily. "Thanks for humoring me. I know this wasn't exactly what you had in mind."

Blaine laughs weakly. "You're welcome, but fucking you isn't exactly a hardship."

"Yeah, but..." Sam isn't quite sure how to explain what he meant, and anyway it's probably not necessary. "You know, I'm not sure why I thought we'd only have time to do one thing. Your parents are gone all night, and it's still pretty early."

Blaine smiles at him. "I like the way you think. Maybe while we recuperate we could come up with some original Nightbird/Blond Chameleon ideas."

"Maybe some ideas that involve them being in a bed or at least on a couch or something," Sam adds.

"I _really_ like the way you think."

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of thought I was done writing fics featuring Sam in a Cheerios skirt, but then Blam week happened and jock/cheerleader was one of the themes, so what else could I do???


End file.
